


Within You There's a Light (I Could Not Fight)

by ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand



Series: Arum's Depression [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Arum has depression, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, It gets bad, Multi, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), basically pressure stimming is the Thing in this one, can also be read as autistic!arum, competent herbalist, depressed lizard, self-deprecating/hating language, the working title for this was Arum has Horns and Depression, touch is important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 17:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand/pseuds/ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand
Summary: Arum gets very depressed, and he can't ignore it forever. Rilla is (un)surprisingly competent.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast), Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast)
Series: Arum's Depression [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979306
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	Within You There's a Light (I Could Not Fight)

**Author's Note:**

> again content warnings for self-hating language, depression, dissociation. there's no self-harm or suicide attempts, but I would still say tread with caution if any of these bother you. if there's anything else you think I missed please let me know!!
> 
> title from the Misterwives song "No Need for Dreaming"

Arum will never understand what he did to deserve not one, but two blooms as spectacular as Damien and Amaryllis in his life. Their love is something he does not deserve, and perhaps he never will, but he has it nonetheless. Questioning why they love him, a monster, only brings quiet reassurances that love has neither rhyme nor reason. It does not matter _ why _ they love him, in any case, there are far too many reasons to name. It only matters that they _ do_. 

Most of the time, this is enough. For a ship lost at sea it does not matter why the lighthouse is shining, only that it does, brightly enough to cut through the thick fog that engulfs his mind from time to time. It is not always enough to dispel the fog completely, but it is something to guide him and remind him that this is not forever, it is only for now. 

Sometimes, though, even the quiet, constant love of his humans is not enough to keep him tethered. The fog in his mind thickens and gathers around him until it is a raging storm that drowns out all the light and warmth in his life. He counts himself lucky that this does not happen for the first few months of their relationship. It is not until they are settled, until they have learned each other well enough to be comfortable, that the fog returns, thicker than he can remember it ever being. His emotions surge in waves of feeling so strong he’s sure they will consume him completely. Then, just when he thinks he is going to drown, the water stills and he is left adrift, numb to anything at all. He isn’t sure which is worse. 

Damien and Amaryllis don’t notice right away, and he counts himself lucky for this, too. If he cannot master his emotions at least he can _ stifle _ them, if only enough to keep Damien and Amaryllis from any unnecessary worry. Just keep them hidden away long enough for this to pass with his humans none the wiser. It doesn’t pass, though. Normally it only takes a few days for something to catch his interest, for him to find a purpose just large enough to grasp and pull him out of the shadows. By the end of the first week, he feels only worse. The fog in his mind is compounded with frustration and anger. It should be better by now. _ He should be better_. _ Why isn’t he better? _

He can’t bring himself to say anything to his flowers about it. He shouldn’t bother them with this it’s… foolish. Ridiculous. He has everything he could ever want, he shouldn’t be _ wallowing _ like a hatchling longing for the warmth of its egg. Since Damien and Amaryllis met him, there has been so much joy and life brought to the Keep. Once lonely, empty rooms are now filled with the boisterous noise of rambunctious knights. Damien’s friends, Amaryllis’s brothers, annoying until, suddenly, they aren’t. _ So why isn’t it enough? _

It’s been nearly two weeks by the time he hits a breaking point. Normally with his humans around to distract him, he can keep himself going, keep himself functional. Today, though, Damien is gone, on duty and staying in the barracks for the next few days, and Amaryllis has been making her rounds throughout the Citadel. So, left alone, he has no reason to pretend that he is alright, to pretend that the haze around him isn’t thick enough to suffocate him. He’s spent most of the day curled up in bed under a nest of blankets, the weight of them covering him a flimsy board of wood not quite strong enough to keep him afloat as he drifts further and further away from the present. But Amaryllis is coming home soon and he’s been _ trying _ to get himself together to get up and greet her, but he just can’t muster up the effort. As the sun begins to set he manages to crawl out of bed and shuffle into his workshop, only to slump onto a bench when he gets there, unable to even feign an attempt at work. 

Sitting there, waiting for Amaryllis to return, he stares blankly, squeezing one hand in the other nearly hard enough to hurt, to try to create some physical sensation to distract him, to snap himself out of his thoughts. It’s not enough, each time he relaxes his grip his mind swarms with a fuzzy haze that makes him feel so very, very far away from everything, and so very, very lost.

Then, a vague sensation, not quite cutting through the fog but pressing against the edges of it. A hand, warm, on his shoulder, and a voice, growing sharper and more insistent the longer he doesn’t respond, “_Arum, please_,” the hand shoves harder at his shoulder, and another grabs his face, turning it towards her, “_Arum_, _ look at me. What’s wrong?” _

That finally gets through to him, and he snaps into the moment. Amaryllis’s worried eyes boring holes through him, her hands holding his face a blessed relief. _ But it isn’t enough_. He meets her eyes only for a moment before he pulls from her grasp to duck his head down like a ram bracing for a fight, and leans into her chest. He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes against her, chasing the pressure that her solid body provides. The pressure vanishes suddenly as she grabs his horns and pushes them off her, stumbling back with a gasp, “_Saints,_ Arum your horns are _ hard_.”

She and Damien have so far made a point not to touch his horns, as they’re generally quite sensitive and fragile, and he’s rather protective of them. Now though, he longs for that pressure again, something to ground him, hold him in the moment as he submerges himself in physical sensation. The sudden lack of pressure against his head is enough to make a whimper stutter out of him, and he leans forward with his elbows on his knees and pushing the heels of his palms against his forehead in an attempt to mimic the intensity of that feeling, to ground himself again. There is a faint rustling of Rilla’s skirt as she sits down beside him on the bench, and gently pulls his fists away from his face. She intertwines her fingers with his own, and squeezes, massaging over the scales that cover his palms, pushing at the base of his claws so they extend and retract methodically, a movement out of his control that he can feel and focus on, without extending the effort to actually do it himself.  
  


“Can you speak?” Amaryllis’s voice is soft. He almost wishes she would yell. Yelling would push the fog away, he thinks. Replace the haze with anger, fear, disappointment, _ something_. But her voice is gentle, and warm, and full of a love it breaks him to hear. He takes a shuddering breath and shakes his head minutely, wrapping his free arms around his waist and hugging them against himself. He’s so close to the edge of something he cannot name, but he’s worried that one wrong move will tip him straight over the side, and it seems to be a very long way down. 

She nods, “That’s alright. You don’t have to talk right now. Just stay with me, ok? I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you until you’re ok again.”

He doesn’t deserve this kindness. He doesn’t deserve _ anything _ right now. Too weak, too pathetic to even speak. He doesn’t deserve her, this brilliant herbalist who refuses to turn from him when he can’t even- when he’s barely even _ here_. She continues to massage his hands, gently pressing into his scales, reminding him, _ I’m here. It’s ok, you’re not alone right now. I’m here for you_. 

He doesn’t deserve this, and suddenly he’s angry, angry at himself, angry at Amaryllis for wasting her time, her patience. He tries to pull his hands away from her, managing to choke out a cracked, “S- Amaryllis I- Don’t-”

He looks away from her and huffs out a shaky breath, fighting against the wave of emotions that swells in him. Amaryllis shifts a little next to him, releasing one of his hands, only to reach out again to take the other. She squeezes it a little harder and then brings it up to her face, gently pressing her lips to it, and holding it there, still massaging gently, just enough pressure to feel overwhelmingly _ present_. She kisses each knuckle, and then she flips his hand over, using one hand to uncurl his claws, and then slowly, deliberately, kisses a soft line up his wrist, into his palm. “I meant what I said Arum, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not just going to leave you because you’re depressed.”

He flinches away from the word, so final and _ certain _ as it falls from her lips. She takes his head in her hands and tilts it up so they’re eye-to-eye, and he’s forced to meet her steady, fiery gaze. “This? Us? It isn’t conditional, Arum. I love you, _ Damien _ loves you, and that isn’t going to change.”

The pressure of her hands on his face, the warmth of them against his cheeks, she’s so gentle and he wants- he _ needs _ more. He pushes forward against her hands, trying to increase the pressure of her touch on him. Instead, she lets the added pressure push her back, and she uses the momentum to guide his head down so he’s resting against her shoulder. 

He butts harder against her, tensing his shoulders and neck to push against her. She braces herself on the bench, letting him push her and not quite pushing back, but not giving either to the pressure. The physical sensation against his head isn’t quite what it was when she grabbed his horns, but it’s close, and it’s enough to make him feel more _ here _ than he has in days. She is warm and strong and rock solid against him, and that is something he can cling to. “That helps, doesn’t it? Pushing me?” 

He tries to nod against her, still not quite trusting himself to speak. She shifts slightly, so her back is against his work table, and she no longer has to brace herself with her hands. Instead she reaches up and wraps her arms around his back, one hand coming to rest on the back of his neck, and she pulls him even closer against her, squeezing him tightly, the metal cuff on her arm cool and hard against his cheek. She holds him like that for a few minutes, not talking, just letting him breathe and settle into the feeling of her surrounding him, enveloping him in a love that is physical and _ real_. She smells clean, citrusy and sharp to his already sensitive nostrils. She is warmth and safety and so undeniably present to him right now that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. Overwhelmed with the sensations that make up this remarkable woman, this miraculous herbalist, Arum remembers what it is to feel, because in this moment he feels _ loved_. 

He relaxes slowly into her embrace, letting the tension in her arms pulling him towards her replace the tension in his own body pushing against her. He settles like this, the fog in his mind still frustratingly, infuriatingly there, but unimportant, at least for the moment. Eventually, she begins to relax too, lessening the pressure around him bit by bit, until she’s merely holding him, cradling him against her like she’s lulling him to sleep. She rubs soothing circles into his back, and turns her head to kiss his cheek. “Do you want to talk now?” 

He takes a deep breath and pulls away from her slowly. “I- I am… sorry, Amaryllis, I-”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Arum. This isn’t your fault, and you didn’t do anything wrong. But we do have to talk about this, and figure out how we’re going to deal with it. I’m just sorry we didn’t deal with this sooner, honestly,” she says, smiling ruefully. 

He blinks at her. “How long have you- I didn’t think you…” 

“We were hoping _ you _ would bring it up - we wanted it to be something you did on your own terms, when you were comfortable and _ ready _ to talk to us about it. We didn’t want to surprise you and have you shut down. Honestly I don’t think we realized it was this bad. I’m so sorry that we didn’t reach out to you sooner, we made a mistake and we should have realized you needed help sooner rather than later. You seemed a little better this morning and- Saints, Arum I never should have left you alone, I should have known better than that. I’m so sorry that I did. It won’t happen again.” 

Arum inhales sharply, “Amaryllis you cannot- it is not your _ responsibility _ to- to keep _ watch _ over me like I am some _ fragile thing _ that might break at any moment. It is certainly not _ your _ fault for leaving today that I am- _ like this. _” He snarls. 

She reaches up to touch his cheek her voice gentle but firm, “It’s _ no one’s fault_, Arum. Sometimes it just happens. Sometimes there’s a reason, sometimes there isn’t. That’s not what’s important, though. All that matters is that we try to get you feeling better.” 

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. If he could simply _ get better _ surely he would be by now. Soon, she’ll realize that, and then they’ll leave, the both of them, tired of their sad, broken monster. Tired of indulging the lizard lord, watching as he becomes a vanishing shadow, fading away into the heart of the Keep, more memory than reality. 

As though she can read his mind, Amaryllis reaches out for him again, “Hey, look at me, Arum. You _ are _ going to get better. It might take a while, and it might not be forever, but you _ will. _ This isn’t permanent.” She holds his head in her hands again, and the fire in her eyes warms him to his bones. He wants to contradict her, to tell her that it’s pointless, foolish to believe in him, but if he’s learned one thing since he met these humans is that it _ is truly _ pointless to try to argue with his herbalist. 

So he sighs, and lets his head tilt into her hands, shutting his eyes again. There is a rustling of fabric and then soft lips press against his forehead, and his eyes flutter open at the touch. She meets his gaze for a moment, and says, “Right, so we do have to talk about this now, ok? I know it’s hard but if we talk about it now that means less talking _ later_, because we’ll have to do it sometime.”

His voice is rougher and softer than he intends as he replies, “I… I’m not sure I know _ how _, Amaryllis. I do not… know where to begin.” 

She takes one of his hands, “Well, you don’t have to know. That’s what I’m here for. I’m a doctor, remember? I’m going to ask you some questions, and I’m not going to ask you all of them at once, but it’ll be a place to start. All I need you to do is be honest, ok? I take it this has happened before? The depression, I mean.” 

He tries not to wince. “If… that is what you want to call it. Yes. Never… like this, though. Never for so long or… This- not like this.” 

“How long do they usually last?” 

He shrugs, looking down into his lap. “A few days, typically, perhaps a week. Usually it is enough to busy myself with an experiment or my work. To be distracted. Though there are certainly more than enough distractions now, and yet… It seems something has changed.” 

Rilla tilts her head at him and gives him a soft smile. “A lot has changed in your life, Arum. There’s been a lot to adjust to lately, and even if they’re _ good _ changes that can still throw off your mental health. Your whole life got mixed up and flipped around, so it’s understandable if it isn’t a completely smooth transition. You’re settling into new routines, new ways of thinking. It’s ok to be overwhelmed by that.” 

“Ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath. 

She chuckles softly, “Yeah, brains can be like that sometimes. It doesn’t always make sense, and it certainly isn’t ever _ convenient_, but we just have to do our best anyway. We all find ways to manage and cope. Which… Brings me to my next question actually. Apart from work and distracting yourself, is there anything else that helps? Something that I or Damien could do?”

She’s looking at him and even though he knows she’ll accept whatever answer he gives, he has a feeling she has something in particular she wants him to say. He crosses his arms over his chest and stomach and sighs, “Not… Not that I am aware of. I thought that your presence would be enough but… while today has shown that it certainly _ helps_… It is not enough to… to drive it away completely.” 

“Do you wanna talk about why you head-butted me so hard when I got here?” She asks, careful and pointed, and he knows what she’s nudging him towards but he’s not sure he can put it into words. 

She waits for a moment, and when he doesn’t speak she quirks an eyebrow at him, “It seems to help to have something physical to focus on. Touch, pressure, weight. Do you know why? What it is about a physical sensation that helps?”

“I… I do not… know exactly. When… when it is bad, I feel very distant from everything. As though I’m lost at sea, in a fog so thick you can taste it. I suppose… physical- _ contact _ cuts through the fog in a way. It doesn’t… The fog doesn’t disappear, but I can start to see through it and… It reminds me that the land is not far off. It is… like a board of wood I can cling to, something to hold me up rather than having to tread water.”

She nods, confirming his suspicion that she knew this already. “And wanting that pressure on your horns probably had to do with their sensitivity?”

He gives her a stern look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Amaryllis, I-”

“Arum, you practically tried to push your head _ through _ my shoulder. I think it’s safe to say that getting contact there helps. I know up until now you haven’t liked having your horns touched, so if that makes you uncomfortable that rule can stay, but if it helps then I don’t think you should ignore that.” She reaches out to put her hand on his shoulder, “This is where I need you to really communicate, and I know that’s hard, and I know you don’t always feel like asking for help, but if something _ does _ help you have to _ let us_.” 

He leans his head down to brush it against her hand resting on his shoulder, shutting his eyes, “This… It helps. But, yes… I-mmm,” he growls, embarrassed and frustrated and wishing this was easier. “My horns are… much more sensitive than my scales, and that sensation, so close to my head and- so- _ intense _ is very difficult to ignore. It’s… grounding, I suppose. And it helps more than… other things. But they are also _ fragile _ , and I… I don’t know if I am comfortable with them being touched. I suppose in the moment my- _ need _ for something to- to _ feel _ again won out. I suppose I… trusted you, Amaryllis, enough to know that I could push you and… be safe. That I could do what I needed to and that you would let me.”

“I’m glad you trust me,” she smiles warmly at him, and leans forward to kiss his snout, drawing a rumbling purr from his chest. “We don’t have to do this right now, if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’re exhausted, and I don’t want to push you past your comfort zone, but I think at some point we should… Try that again? Me, or Damien, touching your horns. Just to figure out what you’re comfortable with. What works best, just touch, or pushing, or pulling, whatever works best to ground you without hurting you or making you uncomfortable.”

He nods pensively, “Yes, perhaps.” 

He looks up and meets her eyes, and the soft, sweet smile she gives him makes his heart stutter. He’s overwhelmed suddenly by just how lucky he is to have this brilliant herbalist look at him like this. To have her _ love _ him like this. With Damien, the love pours from his lips and spills from him in waves of affection. Amaryllis is more reserved, though. Of course she tells them she loves him, but more often she _ shows _ it, with looks like this, actions that show the care she puts into their relationship. Holding him when he needs it. Letting him make the first move, always aware of how he’s feeling, working around that to make sure he stays happy and comfortable. 

Looking into her dark, loving eyes, Arum’s breath hitches, and suddenly he’s shifting forward, wrapping his arms around his herbalist and drawing her to him, pulling her into his lap. She laughs in surprise, but quickly wraps her arms around his neck and lets him pull her close, nuzzling into her neck and hair. “You are the most magnificent creature, Amaryllis. Having you… here. It is a treasure in my life that I never would have dreamed to one day have.” 

She leans her head on his shoulder and kisses the edge of his frill. “I love you, too. Thank you for… Trusting me. For talking to me about all this. I know it’s not easy, but I hope it helps. We’re going to get you through this.” 

Arum is exhausted, from talking, from not talking, from all of this really. He doesn’t know how they’re going to get through it, but for the moment he believes that they will. He pulls her closer to him again and holds her, determined to hold on to this momentary break in the fog for as long as it will last. 

Over the next few days, he lets Amaryllis take care of him, if a little reluctantly. They do try out what he’s comfortable with, testing how and where she can touch his horns without hurting him or overstimulating him. Damien returns from the barracks and Rilla updates him on everything, and soon both of them are caring for him and… Coddling him in a way that would normally make him sneer and scoff, but right now is just… It’s nice. To be reminded that he’s cared for. 

It takes some trial and error, but over time they figure out what works, what he’s comfortable with, and what helps ground him when he’s feeling especially bad. They do still have to talk about things, as much as it makes him uncomfortable, but talking also lets them establish ways they can _ not _ talk, too. Now that they know he needs more physical contact, they find ways for him to get it without having to _ ask_. 

Generally, Arum’s relationship with Rilla and Damien isn’t lacking for physical comfort. He’s always welcome to scoop them up into a hug, nuzzle against them, wrap his tail around them. When it’s bad, though, when he needs that physical touch _ returned _ and needs that pressure, something to ground him and remind him that he’s _ here_, that he isn’t lost and that he isn’t alone, he only has to go up to them and lean down, resting his horns on their chests, a shoulder, their backs. 

It becomes a way that he can ask them for help without _ saying _ he needs it. If he approaches them and lowers his head to them, it becomes a sign for them to know he’s asking, _ Touch me? Hold me. Help me. Tell me it’s going to be ok. _And they do. It’s a way for him to be vulnerable without feeling anxious, a scripted action that takes the guesswork out of the situation, especially when it gets bad enough that he goes nonverbal, too tired and gone to speak, to explain. 

It also becomes a sign of how much he trusts them, both of his precious humans. Even though he is still uncomfortable with asking for help, he trusts them enough to let them see and have the most sensitive parts of him. Trusts them enough to lean his horns on their arms, or to let them grab and push against them. Trusts them enough to let them see him in pain and let them comfort him. He trusts these humans with every part of him, and when he’s too far gone to remember why that matters, he trusts them to remind him. He loves them more fiercely than he could have ever thought possible, these humans. And while there are still days, more than he cares to admit, when he wants to give up the fight, when he’s sure he’s too weak to go on, he trusts that his humans will fight for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile on tumblr!


End file.
